A Pineapple a Day Does Not Keep The Doctor Away
by Suitslover14
Summary: In which Lassie takes charge of a Spencer situation. I do not own Psych


**A/N I had a longing for whump and decided to try a new medium. Don't plan on writing another chapter but it depends on if you guys want it. Hope you like it, Lassie is a bit OOC.**

Shawn strolled into the SBPD, winking at Buzz and heading towards his favorite lead detective's desk.

"Sup Lassie?" Shawn asked, pushing the odd feeling he had in his head away, he had a headache for the past two days and couldn't figure out what was causing it.

"Spencer, get your psychic ass off my desk." Lassiter growled, not bothering to look up from the computer screen.

"Okay, geez Lassie, doesn't bite me." Shawn replied, giving up was not like the young consultant but Lassiter's voice had caused a spike in the pain and a plethora of colors to flitter in and out of his vision.

Lassiter peered up from the computer; Shawn never gave up that easily. There had to be something wrong with him. Lassiter did care about the pain in the ass psychic but always hid it. Personally, he had to put it with the fact that all Spencer wanted to do was to get into O'Hara's pants. Maybe he loved her, maybe he didn't, but somehow he had managed to charm his way into his junior detective's heart. Lassiter rolled his eyes, blocking the protective feeling he had itching up his chest and throat and pointed towards Juliet's desk. The tall, independent, blonde detective was working on a dumb tax fraud case. It was a predictably slow day, it had been that way all week, and Shawn wasn't needed for any cases. Lassie just assumed that he had come here for his girlfriend. But Shawn didn't move in Juliet's direction, just sluggishly looked at Lassiter's outstretched hand.

"Spencer, are you going to move or are you just going to sit there and stare. Because while I'm flattered I'm not a Damn pin-up girl." Lassiter stated, looking for any type of reaction from the unusually slow man.

"H'h. No 'm gonna 'et Jules." Shawn slurred, clutching his spiky brown hair in his fist. Lassiter noticed that Shawn was lacking his African-American sidekick, Gus and couldn't help but wonder why. Him and Gus were attached at the hip, like Barbie and Ken.

"Spencer, you okay?" Lassiter asked, roughing up his voice to make it sound more like a complaint than a concern.

"No." Shawn stated bluntly, his hazel eyes rolling back into his head.

Shawn rolled limply to the floor and all color left his face, making his brown stubble stand out on his chin. Lassiter was up in a minute crouched beside his favorite fake psychic. He took his pulse, Spencer's hand were cold and clammy. It was slow and faint. That wasn't good. Shouting over his shoulder at the officers who had gathered behind him, he told them to call 911, he rolled Shawn onto his side, ensuring he wouldn't choke. He tapped Shawn's cheek, his bright blue eyes scanning his face for life. A grunt rose from Shawn's pale lips and Lassiter repeated the action. This time, his eyes sluggishly blinked open and his face wore a confused expression.

"What happened?" Shawn croaked, falling into a coughing fit that had Juliet pacing around in the crowd.

"Easy. You swooned, and while it was very girly, we need you to go to a doctor." Lassiter replied, a bit of his dark humor covering the serious situation.

"No, no doctor. 'M okay." Shawn stated and tried to get up, Lassiter shoved him back down onto the station's floor. Once again Shawn struggled and tried to stand. Only to be pushed back down, he grunted and shot Lassiter a look, Carlton shrugged and let him stand. He had to catch him as Shawn once again crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Okay my ass." Lassiter grumbled. "ETA on ambulance?"

"10 minutes sir." Buzz relied, avoiding eye contact and looking very worried.

"Get me a chair!" The dark-haired detective ordered.

"Here, Carlton." Juliet handed him a chair and went back to wiping her tears.

He carefully lifted the young man's feet onto the chair. Trying to get the blood back into his head, and get Shawn to regain consciousness. The paramedics came in just as Shawn came to, groaning and clutching his head.

"Son of a bitch." Shawn hissed and the paramedics told everyone to leave.

...

The paramedics entered the Chief's office. Everyone but Lassiter and Juliet had been sent home, It was a slow week anyway, and Chief Vick was on vacation. They didn't look too freaked out and Lassiter took that as a good sign.

"What did the man get himself into this time?" Lassiter asked, yet it sounded more like a demand. That seemed to spook the female paramedic, who at only 5 ft 3 and new was intimidated by anyone who could possibly harm her.

"Well sir, he has the cold, but being the child that he seems to act like, he ignored it. Stating that it was only an aching head. He'll be fine, just a day's rest and some fluids." The older male paramedic replied and Lassiter snickered. Even half-conscious the paramedics could make out Spencer's immaturity.

"Thanks, I'll take him home." Lassiter sighed, pushing open the door and walking over to a sulking psychic.

"No hospital." Shawn snapped, his head was killing him and he just wanted to go home.

"Deal, do you think you can move your ass or do you need me to carry you?" Lassiter asked, showing the bit of protectiveness for his colleague that he tried to keep hidden.

"I don't know if I can make it." Shawn admitted and Lassiter scooped him up, taking him to his car and leading him home.

Turns out the cold detective did have a caring personality.

**A/N Please review, even if it is only as detailed as 'Pineapple'**


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